


A Proper Face Off

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let’s have a face off, John in his best dress attire versus Sherlock at a very exclusive club. A bet, friendly wager. Who gets the most attention? Who gets the most men? Who gets the most women? And the real question is……Who do John and Sherlock go home with for the night???</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a bit suit porn-y. will have more chapters coming up. enjoy.
> 
> this story broke off from dark before the dawn and will get more porn chapters.

[ Author’s note : I would usually bet on Sherlock, but when Watson ACTUALLY uses a little product in his hair, pairs a dark tweed fitted jacket with light trousers, and gives me the look, my knees get weak.

Sherly looks anemic and gorgeous, and the skinny suit….well, suits him and the character very well. the whole starved aristocrat thing gets me pretty hot “i try to never get any sun, bad for the complexion you know.”

Then there’s our boy who grew up poor, made his way out, but still clings to flashy things like that horrid bit on John’s lapel. He’s starting to really like having money, and would love to give you a sneak peak behind the red ropes.

I would pick John. his outfit tells me he would take me hard up against a wall….perhaps in the coat room, while sherly’s screams repression. Johnny bought his boat, sherly uses mummy’s.

I dream that the idea came to fruition right after a long case. One where Sherlock uses his upper class status a bit too often, and makes John think once again that his deathly pallor and expensive suits gets him much too much in life. John trails behind dressed more like an embedded journalist than he’s ever noticed. Add a notebook in one hand and he’s clark kent with bruce wayne skating past all the obstacles that involve class. People open doors for a HOLMES whether he’s the brilliant politic or his bizarre brother. John starts to feel like getting in because Sherly will vouch for him doesn’t help the whole bachelor status. soo…let’s have a ‘face off’, who can dress better and catch the most tail….men or women?] 

 

 

John and Sherlock arrive back at 221b and as Sherlock toes off his expensive leather shoes and faints with a bit too much flair onto the couch John takes a look at the forgotten shoes. Left at the door like nothing, like they don’t cost more than John has ever had at once in a banking account. Sherlock has forgotten them and is rubbing his tired face roughly into the union jack pillow when John slips into them quietly. They really are comically large on him, but the shine reminds him of his formal queens army attire. He stands for a second and thinks ‘I could pull off this look’.

Sherlock drops the pillow on cue, as if John has spoken the words aloud, and tilts his chin. Then he turns on a dime and finds John standing in his shoes. Standing in, mind you, not wearing his shoes. “Staring at them won’t make them grow”, he says to John with just the smallest hint of a grin. John would call that flash of a grin ‘snide’, but at the moment he seems a bit too flustered for words.

”I have no problem with the size of my feet, thank you very much, you prat”, he finally pushes out. “Just admiring the shine is all.”

”There’s a place called the tube where you can spend the rest of your little life shining beauties like that. Well not exactly like those…hand made for me, cost Mummy a horse or two, but you get the point” Sherlock says before quickly adding “Not that I’d let you go, must have my blogger you know”

”Ah yes, your blogger” John seethes “am I turning into ‘the help’ to you Sherlock? Spending a little too much time on brothers coattails lately? I do live here you know, pay rent and everything. And in case you’ve forgotten, I get to come and go as I please!” John quickly evacuated the flashy pair of black shoes and began to put his boots back on in an attempt to storm off into the night in hopes of too much beer and too little (rather just enough) conversation.

Sherlock swirls off of the couch like he sometimes does, half human, half marionette. Just as John reaches the doorknob Sherlock’s hand is there, and the skin contact at that exact moment is electric. John jerks back as if stung. “Damn it Sherlock, let me leave here right this instant. I’ve got a pub to crawl and a handful of women to disappoint. You’re driving me to drink now, each time you're a prat I should get a pint. I need a damn punchcard.”

”Although I’m sure that a night trying to get over with a complete stranger might be just what you need” Sherlock purred while looking pointedly from his shoes to John’s “you will catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

”First, what the hell is it with you being interested in me going out? And second, did you just compare my boots to vinegar?!”John demanded while refusing to retreat and giving Sherlock his best military stance.

”It’s just an analogy John, and if it bothers you that much then I guess we should…avoid the bet” Sherlock replied, turning from the door to make his way into the kitchen. He knew without a look back that John would follow. John always follows him. Under a hail of bullets he would follow him to the ends of the earth. ~my John~ he thinks to himself.

John stares at the floor, nostrils flaring and crushes the carpet with the toe of his boot for a second as if putting out a lit cigarette. Finally he breathes in a deep breath and lets the anger out with it. A bet. Perhaps a way to beat Sherlock at his own game. Sherlock could turn on the charm when it involved a case for sure, but would his acting skills be a match for a chap who actually wanted to get laid. Could libido turn the tide? Could Sherlock play horny as well as John could exude it? John has seen women want Sherlock from across the room many times, but would they be a matched pair up close, or could John prove that a bit of military posture could beat out an aristocratic flair in the end?

”Bet?” John let the word hang in the air as he slowly walked into the kitchen. Sherlock played with a rotting pigs hoof, trying to look uninterested. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably won’t be a case for another few days….mustn’t get too bored. We could have a friendly wager if you like. Who can pull the most interested parties at a club. I know you hate shopping for clothes, but if you wish to compete, you’ll have to do better than the blue jumper that brings out your eyes.”

”Wish to compete?” John asked furiously. “I intend to win! Day and a half of shopping won’t kill me, but you losing a bet over looks might send you into a coma. Wouldn’t want to put you under stress that you couldn’t handle, dear Sherly. I know you fancy yourself quite handsome, but compared to me in dress uniform you look like an underfed nymph.”

”Touche’” Sherlock growled, “but I can promise you that plenty of women, and men, would grovel for a chance to feed this supposed wilting flower. You yourself do it all on your own half the time.”

”I don’t feed you because you’re pretty you idiot! I feed so you won’t die!” John growled back.

”Wilting flower” Sherlock said with a wink.

It was on. A proper face off. New clothes head to toe. Hair done up with expensive smelling pomade. An all the stops pulled, no holds barred face off.


	2. One More Time With Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John picks out an outfit, Sherlock prepares for a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To outsmart a Holmes you can't play by the rules...

John spent the next week shopping for the perfect outfit. Between days at the surgery and nights spent on an uninteresting murder case his mind wandered. By the end of the week he had put together what he believed might be THE ONE. The outfit to out fit a Holmes. He chuckled at his little pun as he lay down the shopping bags and took out their contents; one brand new dark tweed blazer, one tight dark plum button up shirt, and one pair of light slacks. Sherlock told him that he had made plans at a very swanky little club uptown. They were to go out friday evening. He had supposedly nicked the club card from his brother, so John planned to dress for the privileged eye. He wanted to look like he had money, and knew the type of woman that would try to bed a Holmes. They would be confident, well bred independently wealthy women. Maybe he would even get a date out of this whole thing. He wouldn't really mind being taken care of for once.  
John took a long hot shower, shaved, put on his pajama bottoms, and went to make a cuppa. "hope that's not what you'll be wearing friday" Sherlock crooned from behind his laptop. " Of course not, but prying won't make me give away any clues. I suppose you won't be wearing your lie arounds either?" John asked as he filled the kettle. " No John, I have something very special picked out for you, um, friday." Sherlock replied. John thought he saw a blush creeping up his neck, but before it could reach his cheeks and ears Sherlock had gone into his bedroom and closed the door with more force than necessary.  
On Friday John got a text in his last hour at surgery. The mother of the little boy he was examining looked cross when he checked it, but he didn't mind. It stated simply;

114 Willowood Ave. 10 pm  
SH

Once the child was given a lolly and the mother was given a prescription John replied;

?  
JW

He received this reply;

Going to meet you there, wouldn't want you to see me early and have you change your mind. I am quite dashing if I do say so myself.  
SH

John couldn't help but blush. Damn him if he didn't think of everything. Going to the club early would make john the outsider and give him precious minutes to get in a first few bites.John spent the next hour with a knot in his stomach, and that knot had a name; Sherlock bloody Holmes.  
Even on his way home nothing moved fast enough. The tube was slow, and walking was ridiculous. When John finally made it home he ran up both sets of stairs and into his bedroom. Sherlock wasn't home, as expected. He spent the hours leading up to nine-thirty writing up the horribly boring case of the missing left glove, the murder from the last week. He tried not to look at the clock, which meant he only looked at it every twenty minutes instead of every ten.  
John thought about making something to eat, but his stomach was still not in perfect form, so he decided on a sole piece of toast, and a cup of earl grey. When the time came he went back up to his room and sat on the floor. He got the box out from under his bed that held his best formal army shoes, and began to shine them. The act brought back a lot of feelings, but the loudest was pride. He felt like the pride might burst from his chest as he polished them toa gorgeous shine. A little polish goes a long way. That's when a devious plan entered his mind...  
Meanwhile at the club...  
Sherlock hopped out of the cab and ran his hands over the front of his suit. The fabric soft beneath his fingers. He sighed. Although entertained by the idea of John trying so hard he still knew he would win. It was all to easy, and that saddened him. It was not that he wanted to lose, he just didn't want to see John broken. All is fair in war, he thought. And with that he entered the club...


	3. Now, that's a thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's plan unfolds, will Sherlock be able to keep a stiff upper lip? or will he finally fal for our dear doctor?

     John opened his dresser. He stood in the silence of his room and felt a swelling of pride inside of him. He unzipped the suit bag and paused. Looking in on his dress uniform after all this time was a little dizzying. He was flooded with emotion. This would be good. Yes, this would be good indeed. John reached into the inside jacket pocket and pulled out the satchel within. He smelled the sweet lavender and was reminded of his aunt Lara who had taught him to do this. "That way your uniform never smells of must. Always take good care of your uniform John. It's a bit of you." He pulled the uniform out and laid it on the bed. He stripped and began to put it on, piece by piece until he finally affixed the blood red beret and donned his dress shoes. Tonight he wouldn't play the game by the Holmes rules. Tonight he would play by his own.

Meanwhile at the club....

     Sherlock looked at his watch. John should be here by now. Where the bloody hell was he. The game isn't fun without an advisory. His brain was starting to itch, and he realized that the only reason he was here was for John. He was here to play with John. Surrounded by some of the most interesting and attractive people in London, and he was waiting for _his_ blogger. He had grown up in a family of privilege, and spent his whole life at these places. Brilliant people, by normal standards trying to get a leg over. Tha's all this was. And he was bored. He realised that he hadn't been bored,  _really_ bored since he met the doctor. The more he integrated him into his life the less chance there was for boredom to thrive.

     He wondered how the doctor would manage to make a night like this not boring. If they were to be competeing with each other then they would have to split up. He would have to spend the whole night with these repulsive, dull strangers. Then he realsied that he wished they could call off the bet and do what they would usually do at parties: sitting on the sidelines with drinks making observations and predictions about the others while enjoying each others sole company. He snorted a little laugh when he realized that was probably why everyone and their grandmum thought they were a couple. He smiled. 

     There was a sudden quiet that took over some of the members of the crowd and he looked in the direction of the  interest. He felt as though his jaw hit the floor, his mouth suddenly very dry. He felt a warm coil rise in his belly, but ignored it. The crowd parted and up stepped John. No, not John. Up stepped Captian Watson of the fifth Northumberland fusiliers. Sherlock couldn't help but look at him from tip to toe. John's Queen's Army dress attire fit him like a glove. The blood red beret the proverbial cherry on top. John's smile was a mile wide. 'You cheeky bastard', Sherlock thought. He remembered to close his mouth just as John was saying "You're gonna catch flies mate".

     Sherlock quickly changed gears and shot back, "Couldn't find anything appropriate to wear? Might have thought you couldn't keep up." "Oh, dear Sherlock, this isn't about keeping up now, is it? This is about you and I trying our best to get the girl. You would know women can't resist a man in uniform if you ever paid attention. And while your mother's money might buy you that tie, mine was paid for in blood, sweat and tears. Moslty blood. You see, you can't buy class like this at any store. I'm just sad I'll have to see your ego fall tonight from that tall spindly throne of lies it's built on. Your cheekbones are fantastic doll, but my bravery will out do them any day."

     Sherlock stood shell-shocked for a moment. John never spoke to him this way. He felt the heat in his belly again, but tried to replace it with determination. "Sticks and stones John, let the games begin." And Sherlock was off to the bar. John stood in silence for a moment before he got his first bite. A young chap, probably just rounding thirty approached and gave him a smile. "Hi, I'm Timothy Wheston. Couldn't help but notice your entrance. Captain is it? Interesting." Timothy looked John over like prey. He licked his lips and placed a hand on John's hip. "Can I buy you a drink Captian?" Just as good a start as any John thought, and aquiessed. 

     The two men talked for a while, about the army and this and that. Finally Timothy said that he saw a friend aross the way that he had to greet, and left a napkin with his number on it with John. 'One down' John thought to himself as he screened the room for Sherlock. Just as he was about to get up a woman in a long cranberry red dress pushed him back into his seat and took the one next to him. "I see you've met Timmy. Don't let him gobble you up just yet," she said, "He's a little tart, and that shouldn't keep the rest of us from getting a tatse". John blushed and introduced himself. Her name was Bethany, and she filled him in on a few things Sherlock had forgot to mention.

     After talking to Bethany for a bit and getting her number John went to look for Sherlock. As he had assumed Sherlock had already found bait and was leaning a young man against a wall and whispering into his ear. He must have been saying something right because the flush and arousal showed on the other man's face. He stopped for a moment, his belly flopping. It was strange to see Sherlock in such an intimate position with someone. He couldn't help but let the word jealousy drift into his mind. He told himself to settle the hell down and approached the two men. "Sherlock, if you don't mind I'd like to have a word" John said. "Terribly busy John, come back later, or rather not at all." Sherlock replied without even looking up. His interest at the moment giggled. "I really must insist Sherlock" John said forcefully. Sherlock turned and seemed to gain two feet in height. "I really don't give a damn what you have to say dear, I'm rather busy sussing out a virgin." Sherlock said, and the boy giggled again.


	4. Taking command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tides change.

     The next thing that happened was unexplained and unexpected. John had known for over a year now that he fancied Sherlock, but had never tried to do anything about it. He was happy having him as  _his_ no matter how he had to take him. In the face of a percieved threat, the young man, his brain went on holiday. Thinking back on it later he would remember it as an out of body experience. In the second that Sherlock started to turn around John ordered him to stop. It was such an obvious order that Sherlock froze, and a look of shock flew onto the boys face.

     "Daddy's getting tired now Sherly. It's time to go home." Once it was out of his mouth he realized how like moriarty he had sounded. That shocked him. What shocked him even more was Sherlock's immediate response, which was to collect himself to John's side, lower his head and quietly follow him out of the building. Once in the street John turned to face Sherlock. He could see the flush in his cheeks even with his head slightly bowed, and spied something altogether more engrossing. Sherlock was rock hard. His breath hitched, and he felt blood flow to his cock. He never thought he would ever see Sherlock aroused.

     John turned and hailed a cab. Once they had gotten into the cab he spoke to Sherlock for the first time since the club. "You brought us to a sex club." He stated it plainly. Sherlock didn't move. "You see why that's not okay, don't you?" Sherlock stayed still. "You should have at least told me what I was geting into. And why the hell did you pick a sex club anyways?" Finally Sherlock looked up from his lap. He had the most peculiar mix of apprehension and lust in his eyes. He did't say a word, just slid his left hand off his own leg and onto John's now aching cock. It felt like a bolt of electricity went straight through him.

     The taxi came to a stop and Sherlock passed money to the driver. He reached across John to open the door and had to nearly peel him off the seat to get him outside. Once on the pavement John realized he was hyperventilating. Sherlock looked him directly in the eyes and said. "I've been a bad boy." John almost fell to the ground when he heard that and started fumbling for his keys. Once they were inside they rushed up the stairs and John pinned Sherlock against the back of the door. "You were a very bad boy weren't you" John said loving the way it made him feel. "And what will you do to make up for being such a bad boy?" John asked, barely touching Sherlock's ear with his lips. Sherlock rolled his hips and their clothed cocks deliciously slid against each other. Both men shuddered and Sherlock gripped john's arms. John quickly pulled away and said. "Don't you even think of messing up my uniform with those dirty little hands!" Sherlock stood in front of him with hunger in his eyes. "Then let me take it off for you daddy" Sherlock purred. "How do I know I can trust you to handle these clothes properly?" John asked. "I'll be good, I promise" Sherlock said back at least half an octave lower than the last reply. John took another step back and looked him up and down. His request was simple, and followed immediately. He said one word. "Strip".


	5. Yes, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now comes the porn

Sherlock slid off his tie, nimble fingers worked over the buttons on his shirt, and soon they were both folded on a kitchen chair. Next Sherlock removed each shoe and placed the socks in them. As John looked on Sherlock began to undo his belt, lithe fingers moving quickly to their task. As he removed his trousers he took his pants down with them and John sucked in a breath. There, in front of him, in the moonlight coming through the windows was a thoroughly naked, thoroughly aroused Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock folded the slacks and laid them on top of his other clothes and stood expectantly in front of John. Even in the low light John could see that his pupils were fully dilated, and his cock was damp with pre come.

"Good boy" John said. "I guess I can trust you. Well, what's the wait? Have at me." Sherlock moved in close and began to unbutton John's jacket. His fingers ghosted over his skin as he slipped it off and hung it on the back of the chair. John shook with anticipation, but did his best to stand tall at attention. Sherlock removed his tie and shirt, stopping after folding them to kiss John's stomach and chest. John had never felt energy like this with anyone he had ever been with. His cock was getting so hard it was starting to hurt. Next the beret, kissing John's temple and licking his earlobe. John felt like he was going to pass out as he felt Sherlock unbuckle his belt and hit the floor.

"Whh-what are you doing?" John cried. "removing your shoes, Sir" Sherlock cooed playing innocent. Sherlock removed both shoes and socks with care. He walked them over and left them by the kitchen table. He then took down John's trousers and pants, and when he turned back around he fell to his knees again. This time, before John could question him he had John's cock fully in his mouth. John was making grunting noises above him, and slipping his fingers through his hair. He let the head of John's cock rub and push against the back of his throat as he licked the sensitive underside. He pulled back and let the cock slide slowly halfway out his mouth. Then he took him full again. He reached up his hands to fondle John's balls, and John let out a quick cry. Sherlock pressed his face hard towards John's body and felt the back of his throat resist as he made the man standing above him fall to pieces. He pulled off John's prick and looked up into his shocked face. "Was that good? Was I a good boy for you?"

John looked down on him, not quite understanding how he got into this crazy situation. "Yes." He said. "Tell me what you want." Sherlock looked almost shy for a moment, and the replied, "I want you to fuck me into my bed, daddy."


	6. Bathed In Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a daddy fetish and John knows just how to deal with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure porn for you, dear readers.

John walked swiftly to Sherlock's bedroom door and opened it all the way. He stood tall and looked Sherlock directly in the eyes and said "Well run along then." and nodded towards the room. Sherlock got to his feet clumsily, and walked into his room with what could only be called a goofy grin. Once in the room he waited for John. John walked in, closed the door behind himself, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at Sherlock and patted his knee. Sherlock understood the command immediately, and positioned himself square on John's lap. Although in another situation this would have looked silly, John had such command over the room that even the shadows could tell he was in charge. He sat up straight and put an arm around Sherlock's back and a hand on his shoulder.

"I can tell you want to be a good boy Sherlock," John said "but you really do lack the discipline." Sherlock bowed his head. "I think that we can make some progress with that if you will let me help you. Will you Sherlock? Will you let me help you?" John said in a stern but loving manner. Sherlock looked up with what must have been hope in his eyes and nodded yes. "What was that Sherlock?" John asked. "Yes....yes, Sir." Sherlock purred as he felt heat swell in his belly and his cock aching for attention. "I think we can work out a deal, you and I. You'll have to let me think up a plan of action." John said. "But..." Sherlock spit out, a look of panic in his eyes. "Don't fret dear, I will grant you your request for tonight. I wouldn't go back on my word like that. Now lie down on the bed for me please." John said as he reached into the upper drawer of the bedside table. When he had recovered the bottle of lube he turned around to see Sherlock with a look of surprise on his face. "Oh, we both know what goes on in this house, don't give me that look." John remarked as he climbed onto the bed.

John positioned himself over Sherlock and began massaging him, starting with his arms and moving lower. "Now you be good and relax for me." He whispered into Sherlock's ear. He kissed down Sherlock's body starting with his ear lobe. John payed close attention to the body beneath him, and when he got a response he took extra time on that area. He licked and bit at Sherlock's right and then left nipple, sucking skin in between. Then to his stomach as Sherlock bent off the bed to try to get more contact. "Settle boy." John whispered, as if to a horse or other unbroken beast. Finally John took Sherlock's prick in his mouth. He let it slip deep into him and sucked all the way down. When Sherlock's cock was pressing against the back of his throat he very deliberately hummed. Sherlock's whole body tensed. He spent a long time sucking on his cock, taking it as far down as he could. He had such a fantastic cock, long and thick. As John was sucking he couldn't help but wonder how long before he got to feel it move inside him. 

John reached up with one hand and began to massage Sherlock's balls. They were so warm in his hand. He pulled off his prick and took one in his mouth. The sound Sherlock made was delightful. He sucked and played with it gently as he opened the bottle of lube. Before Sherlock knew it John was tracing slick circles around his entrance. It felt so good that Sherlock could't help but moan loudly. John went back to Sherlock's cock, and slowly pushed the finger in. The pleasure from his cock almost completely blocked out the feeling, but it did burn a bit. Then John put in another, moving them together, and then scissoring them open and closed to stretch him. John pulled his fingers out and applied more lube, then replaced the two and added a third. He let Sherlock's prick fall from his mouth and looked up into his eyes. He was full of want. "Are you ready Sher?" John asked. Sherlock nodded yes.

John removed his fingers and moved up on the bed, still between Sherlock's legs. He pulled Sherlock's left leg over his shoulder and lubed up his own aching cock. John lined his cock up and looking Sherlock directly in the eyes started to slide in. What he saw at first was a bit of shock, then pleasure overtook him, and he started to groan. Once his cock was fully inside Sherlock and he could feel his balls rubbing at the base he began to move. With one hand on Sherlock's knee and another on his hip he began to set a rhythm. He smiled at Sherlock and said "That's my boy, my gorgeous boy. Your arsehole is so tight for me. You're so damn hot inside. And you'll let me do whatever I want to you won't you?" "Yes daddy, please fuck me daddy. I'll do whatever you want." Sherlock replied through groans and sighs. 

John began to ride him harder, pulling almost all of the way out before sinking back in all the way to the hilt. He could see Sherlock's body quivering below him as he almost glowed with sweat in the moonlight. John moved his right knee forward just a bit to get an angle on Sherlock, and hit his prostate hard. Sherlock cried out, and John sank in again and again. John could feel his balls beginning to tighten, so he took Sherlock's cock in his left hand and began to pump. He could tell that Sherlock was close too as all of his moans started to run together, and his eyes drifted closed. Just as John began to come he ran his thumb over the head of Sherlock's cock, and that sent him over the edge. Both of them were coming, John filling Sherlock with hot semen and Sherlock coming all over John's hand. Everything slowed down, and after a few moments of heavy breathing John pulled out.

John lay down next to Sherlock and wrapped him in his arms. "Good boy" he breathed into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock nodded. Soon they were fast asleep in each others arms.


End file.
